


Midgardian Coming-of-age Customs

by argle_fraster



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argle_fraster/pseuds/argle_fraster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor discovers the concept of sleepovers and demands to have one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midgardian Coming-of-age Customs

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I manage to massively HTML fail over on the prompt fill, apologies. LOL fail, self.

To: SHIELD-TEAM  
From: thor.odinson.god.of.thund@gmail.com  
Subject: EMERGENCY

BROTHERS AND SISTER IN ARMS, I HAVE A GRAVE EMERGENCY I MUST DISCUSS WITH YOU. PLEASE CONVENE AT THE MAN OF IRON'S TOWER AT 1800 HOURS, AS THIS IS OF A MOST CRITICAL NATURE.

IF POSSIBLE, BRING THE FOLLOWING SUPPLIES: (1) SET OF SLEEPING GARMENTS, (1) A PLUSH FIGURINE OF A MIDGARDIAN CREATURE OF YOUR CHOOSING, (3) SMALL VIALS OF COLORED PAINT IN ASSORTED HUES, (2) SUSTENANCE PURCHASED FROM THE LARGE GLASS RETAINERS OF COLD AIR AT THE LOCAL MARKET

\--

"Did he say anything else to you?" Steve asks, checking his phone - or attempting to get the ringer off silent again, which is a problem that apparently plagues him daily. "He never answered any of my follow-up calls about what kind of paint he was looking for."

"Is this some sort of Asgardian ritual?" Tony wonders aloud. He's elbow-deep in something; programming, leaning over the couch onto the 3D modeling output monitor, preparing for contingencies. Natasha isn't sure they've ever _been_ prepared for something like this - demi-god crises seem like one of those things one can't ever plan for.

The supplies list was equally as baffling as Thor's vagueness. Clint had shown up with a fully packed survival kit strapped between his shoulder-blade and his quiver, and Natasha hasn't asked where exactly he got the military supplies. Tony seems to be anticipating some sort of camping trip, but Natasha can't quite sort out why they'd need _frozen_ food unless they were heading far north - or beyond - so she'd thrown in the thermal gear that Coulson had presented to them as a durability test at last month's meeting.

When Thor finally arrived, late, he was carrying a bag slung low over his shoulder. "Ah, good, you all received my electronic alert message."

"We just call it 'e-mail' here," Tony says, shrugging. "What is all that, food for a month?"

"I went to your visual record library to borrow many heart-warming accounts of Midgardian history," Thor tells him, looking rather proud, as he dumps the contents of the bag onto the small coffee table in the middle of the room. "I was assured by the expert in the blue uniform that these were the highest quality and having sufficient content for my purposes."

Natasha leans forward. "These are Blu-Ray discs," she announces.

"You went to _Blockbuster_?" Clint marvels. He picks up one of the cases, staring at it. "And why did you rent _The Breakfast Club_?"

"I thought you said this was some kind of emergency," Bruce says.

"This is a matter of grave urgency," Thor replies, face set and serious. "It has come to my attention that a critical aspect of Midgardian coming-of-age development has been denied to me by my circumstances. I aim to rectify this."

Natasha sits back on the couch, unsure whether she wants to laugh or cry, because suddenly the odd, cryptic email is making too much sense, in all the wrong ways. "You're kidding. You want us to have a _sleepover_."

"That is the term!" Thor replies, beaming. "It has been confirmed within multiple programs that this is indeed the way to properly create one. Did you all bring your sleeping garments?"

There is a long, drawn-out moment of silence in the room, before Steve asks, "Wait, what exactly does a sleepover entail?"

"You know, now I understand that bit about the frozen food," Tony says, mostly to himself.

Natasha kicks at Bruce across the couch, catching mostly the excess fabric of his shirt but grazing him enough to get his attention. His head whips around, expression confused. "What was that for?"

"I need you to get angry and destroy the tower so I can leave," she tells him.

"You cannot leave until dawn tomorrow," Thor says. "Also, I am hoping that Tony possesses enough pillows for all of us, as I am told it is custom to engage one another in a simulation battle with them."

"You know, I never had a pillow fight as a kid," Clint says.

Natasha contemplates throwing the remote at his head, just as a warm-up. "This explains an awful lot about you."

"I am also told that this battle should take place whilst clad only in our undergarments," Thor continues, and pulls out a seven-piece mud masque kit that was apparently purchased from Macy's.

"No, seriously, I'm leaving," Natasha says.

\--

The problem is that Thor is _very_ insistent, and while Natasha has never seen him angry enough at them to really destroy something - other than their initial meeting, which she chalks up to more of a misunderstanding than anything else - she isn't sure it's wise to crush his hopes and dreams of recreating the last episode of _Lizzie McGuire_ he watched.

Which is how she finds herself sitting on the plush carpet of Stark Tower, watching Clint smear some concoction of fruity-smelling muck onto his face ("What is this? Jojoba oil? My god, my face feels _amazing_ , I am doing this every night!") and Thor attempt to paint Steve's fingernails a garish blue color ("I believe, Captain, that this will match the unique hue of your eyes.").

_When you can't beat 'em..._

Natasha sighs, and reaches forward to grab a slice of Chicago-style pizza that Tony ordered in after seeing the "sustenance" that Thor brought with him (a box of frozen peas, a bag of waffles, and mini-eggrolls that were apparently on sale).

She is confused when Tony hands her a drink that seems to be 3/4 vodka and some tonic water to fill up the rest of it.

"Adult sleepovers," he says, as she curls her fingers around the glass, "include adult beverages."

"Let's play a drinking game that requires a shot for every time one of these characters uses 80's slang," Clint suggests. "And then I say we build a blanket fort in Stark's living room."

"This is the worst sleepover I've ever been to," Natasha says.

Thor, however, seems pleased. "After the movie, we shall sit in the structure we build and share frightening tales using only flashlights to illuminate our faces!"

When Bruce levels her with a questioning look, Natasha shrugs. "It's also the only sleepover I've ever been to."

"Can someone paint my toenails?" Clint asks, with a laugh. "It's sandal season."

"Yes, Hawk," Thor replies, "and as I assist you, I request that the angry green one plait a braid into my hair to signify our deep sense of camaraderie on the glorious field of battle."

At least after the first drink, the whole thing becomes far, far easier to deal with. Natasha has done worse things with her time.

Not a lot of things, obviously, but, hey, you can't win everything.


End file.
